Tango to the Rescue
by Spock99
Summary: Between clothes, mysterious figures and house-elves, Madam Malkin is in for a night full of fear, surprise, and dark scheming. Follow the shop keeper through the nightly Diagon and Knockturn Alley.


**A/N**

**Written for the Quidditch Fanfiction League Competition – Season 7, Round 3**

**Chaser 1 of Falmouth Falcons**

**Chaser 1 prompt:** Write about a character, _excluding Neville_, who spends most of their time behind the scenes, but eventually gets their moment to shine.

**Optional prompts:**

robust (word)

dancing the Tango (action)

The Music of the Night (song)

The music of the night isn't quoted but the content is processed in the text as Madam Malkin's observations and cognition are described as the Phantom describes what night-time stirs in a human. Also, Music plays a part in this story.

* * *

**Tango to the rescue **(words 2955)

I am standing in the back room of my little shop, eyes closed and listening to the daily noise going on in the front. I can hear the tiny bell above the door ring as a customer steps in. There is the quiet skidding of metal on metal as the curtain of one of the changing cubicles is drawn back. Then a high-pitched cry of delight as a witch informs her friend of "how gorgeous" she looks.

I shake my head in resignation. The two of them have been in my shop for two hours. Every time the younger woman tries this or that piece of clothing, the other squeaks and screeches and cries like possessed. They haven't bought anything yet. Most likely, they never will. Experience tells me they will jumble my whole neatly folded robes and clothes, then tell me they didn't find anything today and leave.

"Oh, Mommy look!" a child screams, and I can imagine the little monster pawing through the freshly laundered stacks of shirts and dresses. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. There is a reason I am in the back room. Sometimes, all those people are simply too much and I need a short time of peace.

I can't stand their attitude towards me as a shop owner want everything perfectly fitted for them and all of that as quickly as possible without caring about how many customers I must satisfy right now. This is the part I hate about my work.

The most terrible of the people are the ancient pureblood families. Bile rises in my throat as I think of their arrogant way of treating others. How they think they are better than everyone else, better than all the shop owners in Diagon Alley. There are few like Ollivander who are respected by them because they provide the necessary goods. But for me? I am selling clothes, school uniforms, and dress robes. They could buy them some other place. Sometimes I wish they would.

But I don't want to complain. I've led my shop for half my life now, and I still love it. Despite the tiring clientele on some days, there are mostly friendly witches and wizards. Some are in for a bit of a talk, others buying their clothes at my place for over a decade now. I smile at the thought of the old Lady Longbottom turning up every few weeks with sweets and a butterbeer for me. Like in every business, there are great days, good days, bad days and terrible days. And as far as I can say, this day has turned out to be a bad day, with a slight tendency to terrible.

The doorbell shocks me out of my thoughts. With a last deep breath and a quick check of my hair, I open the door to the main room and step into it.

The very moment I lay eyes on my newest customer, I want to turn around again. This day is on its best way to more than terrible. I sigh and turn my attention to the newcomer while I ignore the ongoing cooing and delighted babbling coming from the changing cubicles.

I sigh and plaster a wide, perhaps too wide, smile on my face. It hurts after two seconds.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy, on this most pleasant day?" I could gag when I hear my overly sweet voice. The blond aristocrat already drums his fingers on the counter in impatience. He sneers at me and looks me up and down as if he was eying a beetle.

"I requested a robe to be fitted for my wife last week." He says. The part where he wants that blasted robe right now here in his hands, folded and with a discount, is embedded in his statement. I glue my eyes to his pale face and struggle not to roll my eyes.

"Of course, Sir. The robe is ready to be worn by your lovely wife." I smile and turn around to retrieve the item from behind the counter. The robust fabric is neatly sewed and glitters with a faint hint of silver and green. At least he doesn't want a new robe himself today. I seldom had a man so picky about fashion like him. He throws the galleons on the tabletop like one would do with a Knut for a beggar in Muggle London. As if paying for my services is too much for him. As if it couldn't be expected of him to give his precious money to someone like me. If I am honest, I don't want all the money in the world if it came from Lord Lucius Malfoy.

I count the money and recognize there is no tip, as usual.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," I say pleasantly and give him the package with the robe for his arrogant wife. He sneers again, then leaves the shop with a grunt. To interpret it as a "_Thank you, Good day!_" would be exaggerated fantasy.

The thought of casting a silent cleaning spell on the ground Malfoy has walked on, makes me smile. Before I could decide whether to cast or not, a shrill yell comes from the far corner of the shop.

"Madam Malkin! Could you please come for a moment?" Alright here goes nothing.

"Of course, darling!" I shout back. The two women are much younger than me; I may call them darling as often as I like. I put Malfoy's coins away and walk over to the beauties.

"How can I help you, dears?" I ask friendlily. Malfoy's visit reminded me of the many other people in my store. And that they all were a more pleasant company than any pureblood Lord. This time my smile is real.

* * *

It is late when I finally step out onto the nightly street. Diagon Alley at night is quiet. There are not many pubs and restaurants, so the big parties go on somewhere else. Diagon Alley is always a sight with all its lanterns spreading the soft, warm light over the cobblestone. I paint a locking rune on the shop door and breathe in the cool nightly air. I love late evenings here. After a day of constant running around my shop and customers and the business of the shopping street, the sunset chases most people out of the wizarding shops.

I stand on the step to my little shop and close my eyes. The air smells like rain on dark soil, like the stew Tom sells at the Leaky Cauldron down the street. There is a faint sweetness in the air, coming from Florian's. It mixes with the nasty smell of the Apothecary.

I let my senses take in all the details on the street. There is music coming from the right end of the street. I wonder why there would be music at this late hour, but then I remember today is Wednesday. Only a few know that on Wednesdays, the local house-elves throw a small party for their own. The little creatures are bound to the shop owners, but Diagon Alley is a place of peace. Therefore, we all decided to give the loyal workers time off. The faint rhythm of tango is wavering through the night to my ears, and I grin at the thought of house-elves dancing tango.

I can't suppress a chuckle at this image. I open my eyes and look around. As always, Garrick is still in the wand shop. Probably crafting some new wands. The man is a genius with wood and magical cores. He understands more about a person than most do, but he doesn't take care of himself sometimes.

The rest of the shops are dark. He is the last, as always. I decide to go over and tell him to finish for today. In a few days, the children will storm the Alley again to get their Hogwarts stuff and we all will need our strength. Ollivander must sleep in advance if he doesn't want to keel over in exhaustion while trying wands with the youngsters.

I sigh and walk down the street towards the brick wall leading to the Leaky Cauldron. As I pass the entrance to Knockturn Alley, the music gets louder. The elves must be celebrating down there tonight. Usually, they stay on the light side of the streets. In Knockturn Alley, literally everything is dark; I wonder why the little fellows would throw a party in such a place. The only location remotely resembling a party place is the White Wyvern. But the barkeeper there wouldn't open his establishment to house-elves. The people down there are dark sorcerers, the lot of them.

I am staring into the gaping entrance to Knockturn Alley, lost in my thoughts, as I hear the bricks at the entrance move. Who would stop by a closed shopping street this late in the evening? A figure with a black cloak makes its way towards me. I look around, but there is not a single soul to be seen. A strange feeling settles into my stomach, and I decide to hide. There are people disappearing in these dark times, and I certainly don't want to be one of them.

My gaze falls back on the hooded figure, coming nearer by the second. Quickly I turn around to walk back into my shop to hide there, but as I start walking, there suddenly appears another dark guy. He is coming from the opposite direction of the Leaky Cauldron. The unpleasant feeling in my guts grows to dread and settles there.

Now, both nightly visitors are hurrying in my direction from either side. The only way I have left is down Knockturn Alley. The dark entrance looks like gaping jaws of a monster, waiting to swallow me up whole. Their steps can be heard clearly now. The fear wins over my aversions to Knockturn Alley and I run into the darkness.

I struggle not to make a sound and instinctively move towards the tango music still playing deep in the guts of this dark shopping street. I reach a junction but as I see someone exiting the White Wyvern, I desperately change direction and hurry down another narrow path. The walls seem to grow nearer, and I brush my fingertips against the robust brick walls to keep my footing on the damp cobblestone.

The music gets quieter with every step I take as my breath gets louder. I haven't been here. Ever. I don't know where I am anymore, but out of fear, I walk on.

Suddenly the wall under my right fingertips vanishes, and I turn my head to look. There, in the semi-darkness is a narrow, dirty backyard with bins and rubbish lying on the ground. I can't catch my breath enough to run on, so I swiftly move into the yard and crouch behind a bin. The smell is terrible, like dirty socks and old milk, but I don't really mind at this moment. My dark robes will conceal me from the eyes of the mysterious figures down here.

The music is still playing, but it sounds from a distance. I lean heavily against the cold, damp wall to catch my breath. I close my eyes and listen into the night. There is nothing at first, and I almost stand up to go back, when I hear it. Heavy steps coming down the alley I just struggled down. Carefully, I peek around the bin and flinch back. There, right in front of the entrance to my hiding spot stands a dark silhouette. Could that be one of the two figures I fled from?

"There you are!" The hushed, deep voice rings through the semi-darkness, makes me press myself deeper into the shadows. This voice I know well. The snarl and cool tone. Slowly I lean forward, just enough to catch the glimpse of light blonde hair under a hood.

Malfoy can't be talking to me, can he? I swallow hard and draw my wand. It has been a while since I dueled, but if necessary, I will fight my way out of here. I take a deep breath and prepare myself to fire a stunning hex.

The very moment I want to jump, another voice freezes me in place.

"Did you think I wouldn't come?" The new voice is higher than Malfoy's. It is a bit hesitating and accompanied by rasping intakes of breath.

"You are known to be a bit—incompetent at times, Fenrir." Malfoy snarls, and I can hear a growl from the man named Fenrir.

The only person I know going by that name is the werewolf Greyback. But I thought he was out of the country and on the run from the Aurors! My hands become sweaty as I clench my fingers around the handle of my wand. Again, I sneak a look around the bin, and my worst nightmares are confirmed as I make out the high frame and the robust stature of the wanted werewolf.

"How are preparations going?" Malfoy asks. A grunt comes from Greyback.

"We will attack at nightfall Saturday next." He informs the other. Attack what? Greyback was a Death Eater in the last war but Malfoy's charges had all been dropped back then. Malfoy's next words make my blood freeze.

"They won't be able to evacuate St. Mungo's in time. The victory is ours this time!" Malfoy declares into the night.

My wand clatters to the ground at the mention of an attack on St. Mungos. In shock, I watch as it falls to the ground and bounces a few times before it lies still. Then time seems to stop for a moment. I hold my breath and hope they didn't hear me. If they plan on attacking the hospital, they won't refrain from killing a witness to their little meeting.

"Who's there?" Malfoy demands the next moment, and I press my hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp coming out of my throat. He did hear me! Fear seems to paralyze me the very instant I hear him.

"Go look, Greyback!" He commands next and I hear the werewolf sigh and his heavy steps come towards my hiding place. I press myself behind the bin as far as it works while I hear him grumble something about rats.

I close my eyes tightly as he stops only a few feet away from me. I am praying the awful smell from the bins covers up my scent from the werewolf. He looks around and sniffs the air. He turns around to face Malfoy in the alleyway.

"I can smell something here." He trails off and moves in a small circle to observe the shadows.

Oh no!

A soft pop sounds through the dark space; I open my eyes in fear of whatever is in front of me. Then I suppress a shriek as my gaze falls on two small house elves in front of me, both holding a bottle of some vile liquid, obviously drunk. Greyback turns around, and his gaze falls on the two drunken elves.

The two creatures look at him and begin laughing, then they step into each other's arms to assume a casual dancing position. Their high-pitched voices break the tense silence as they begin chanting a tango rhythm.

"ram-dam-dam, ram-dam-dam, ram-dam-dam!" They start a tango promenade towards Malfoy and disappear to the right of the blond wizard into the next lane.

It seems like I am not the only one perplexed by their little act. Greyback grunts and stomps back to Malfoy who looks after the two creatures with disgust and shock.

"Useless things the lot of them." The werewolf says. Then he grabs Malfoy's left forearm in a firm grip and the blond aristocrat returns it.

"Indeed, they are. I trust you will lead the raid on Saturday, Greyback?" He snarls, and at a nod from the werewolf they part and disappear into different directions.

I am still leaning against the cold wall and let out my breath. Relief floods through my body, and I listen to the faint tango music while waiting for the two Death Eaters to get enough distance between us all.

After a long time, I stand up and creep along the dark streets back to Diagon Alley. When I step out of Knockturn Alley, I breathe in the suddenly clear night air and feel like I have been born anew. My feet lead me to the Leaky Cauldron from where I floo home.

* * *

On Sunday morning the wizarding world finds a chorus of praise in the Daily Prophet.

_**Attack on St. Mungo's foiled – Seven Death Eaters arrested.**_

_On Saturday evening the wards in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries were evacuated. An anonymous sou__rce informed the authorities of a planned attack on the hospital._

_The witch doesn't want to be honored publicly but her quick thinking and observation skills enabled the Auror office to send a full emergency force. All patients, healers, nurses, and visitors could be rescued in time, and the attack was stopped successfully. The attackers were detained and brought to Azkaban. One of them was the long suspected werewolf, Fenrir Greyback._

_We were assured the noble witch in question was rewarded for her exceedingly detailed information by the Auror office and the Minister of Magic. The head of the Auror office tells us that all the woman wanted was a gift certificate for a Tango course._

_We hope she likes her sponsored membership at the Wizards' dancing community and thank her from the bottom of our hearts for her courage and selflessness!_


End file.
